


Harder to Hide

by Schwoozie



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Riding, Sexual Content, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6752113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwoozie/pseuds/Schwoozie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen isn't used to caring about sex. Apparently he's changed her in more ways than she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harder to Hide

**Author's Note:**

> As usual in this fandom, I blame Di. You're lucky I'm ovulating.
> 
> Title from "I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys.

Karen long ago learned that there are more important things in life than sex; after her childhood, and everything that went wrong, there wasn't room in her head for herself, her body. She's done it a few times, yes; had a few boyfriends, yes. It never impressed her much. The kissing was nice, their hands on her breasts even more so; but then it would get to the point where they were pumping away above her and she had to focus on keeping enough space between them so she could breathe. She faked orgasm more often than not; when she forgot to, she'd push the boy away and say she'd take care of herself later. She usually didn't see them much after that, and that was fine—she had her fingers and her privacy and that was enough.

It doesn't feel like enough now. God, no, how could it have ever been enough when she's feeling like this: legs spread around his thick hips, knees planted on the bed as she works herself up and down on the cock inside her. And it's inside her, so _inside_ ; she loves the girth of it, how it stretches her when she circles her hips, how her own body clings to it as she pulls up, opens up when she pushes down. The man beneath her lies still, save the bunching in his muscles; seems content to let her do the work, and she doesn't mind. This burn in her thighs, the way her hair feels cascading down her naked back, how she tosses her head back and she _arches_ , breasts heavy and standing out and so on display that once upon a time she would have died of it. But that doesn't matter, not here. She clutches his hands for a moment as she slides down her body and he slides up. He takes the hint and his grip tightens, and she moans, so loud and so long that some part of her wonders what the neighbors must imagine is happening in here.

Well. They'd probably imagine exactly what _is_ happening; Karen getting the fuck of her life and he's barely even _moved_ yet.

He's talking, though; has been since she sank down on top of him, soft enough she catches only hints of what he says, wonders if he's speaking a language she knows or just letting the noises flow from him like they flow from her. His words are punctuated by gasps and grunts and his mouth hangs open as his hands pass over her over and over; from her thighs to her waist to her breasts, squeezing them and pulling on her nipples and that only makes her arch her back more, begging for more, _more_ , more in a way she doesn't know how to ask for, not when all that fills her mouth is nonsense like his—gasps and curses and an actual cry when he hits something inside her she wasn't expecting, something that makes light spark up and down her spine and she pitches forward to catch herself on his chest, his broad chest shiny with sweat and heaving as much as hers. She digs her fingers into his pecs and he does the same on her waist and with just the strength of his arms he lifts her up and brings her down again, hitting that spot, making her whole body shiver.

“That's good?” he whispers. “God you're so good, just feel you, feel it, _fuck_ , you make it good for you–“

He won't stop talking and she doesn't _want_ him to stop; feels like without his words she'd float right up into space and never find her way down.

“God, oh, _god_ –,” she groans, circling her hips and trying to calm herself down, bring herself back from that dangerous precipice. It all feels dangerous with him; not because he makes her feel unsafe, god no, but because he makes _her_ feels dangerous; makes her feel things she isn't supposed to feel with an intensity she isn't supposed to feel them and this started so long before they first found themselves in bed.

He's bucking his hips a little now, still pulling her up and down, up and down until he finds that spot and she hangs her head, her whole body shivering, hair a curtain around them as she shakes.

“That's it Karen, fuck, you want more? Yeah, you want more, c'mon, c'mon–“

She knows where his hand is going and she knows she could stop it but for the first time in her life she doesn't want to, and when his fingers find her clit her eyes shoot open and lock with his and she doesn't know how she ever looked away in the first place.

“C'mon with me, Karen, c'mon–“

And she's bouncing now, fucking _bouncing_ , using her burning thighs and his own jumping hips and she sees him losing control too; breathing more erratic, thrusts harder as he brings his feet under him on the bed and meets her every time she comes down.

“Fuck, fuck, I can't–“

“You can,” he whispers, voice strained as he holds himself back, cock pulsing inside her but still hard and full as he manipulates her clit with deft fingers. “C'mon Karen, come for me, lemme see you come, let go, I know you can–“

“I can't, I, I,” she gasps, voice rising in pitch until in one snap it jerks through her, body convulsing and arms collapsing so her face lands beside his ear, and as his own thrusts speed up, chasing his own release, the sweat between them and his scent around her and the puckered scars of his chest on her own unblemished skin as she turns towards the scar almost grown over with hair, clutching him through her aftershocks, feeling her body release again as she whispers his name–

“ _Frank–_ “

* * *

Her eyes pop open and it's dark. Dark the way the city is dark, but darker than it usually seems as she scrambles to her elbows, chest heaving as she looks down at her dress, around the room. Gregory Peck looks out at her from the television screen, the sound on mute; she remembers coming home and being too overwhelmed to even undress, collapsing on the couch and turning to TCM and letting her eyes close–

She's in her apartment, alone. It's dark the way the city is dark. She feels beneath her bottom and she's soaked all the way through to the cushion.

She stands and stumbles to the bathroom, using the light of the TV to guide her as she bumbles into pieces of furniture, staggering like she's drunk something she shouldn't have. Her panties slide uncomfortably between her legs and her nipples _burn_ as they rub against her bra and by the time she reaches the bathroom and fumbles for the light switch she's panting again.

She stares at herself in the mirror and doesn't know the woman staring back. Eyes wide and doe-like, pupils blown, chest heaving like it had–, like it had–

She brings a hand to her mouth, fallen open as she tries to breathe, pulse so strong she can feel it in her eyelids.

Her lipstick is still smudged from kissing Matt earlier.

She changes into new panties and falls weightless into bed.

 


End file.
